Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

….said someone once upon a time in a story.

Instagram – where memes and selfies reside, and some other photos.Pinterest – where memes reside, collections of photos which tend to be decent but who knows where they all came from. Facebook – where selfies and memes reside.
Interesting that the human race is putting itself out there with gusto, giving it all away for nowt. Not just from the here and now, but times gone by. Is this global sharing or global narcissism. Is it the only way many can be seen and heard – their art, their heart. Is there some kind of symbiotic movement happening like a murmur of starlings. Synchronicity is everything said Jung. Are we trying subconsciously to get in to synch. Maybe at some point, the magical formula will appear and ping, we’re swimming like a shoal of herring.
What’s missing? The future’s missing. Where’s the vision.
Who’s observing, who’s listening. Timing, of course, is everything. Wait…wait…wait.
I don’t feel the moment yet. I’ll let you know when I do.

In the meantime, I am reading  three collections of poetry edited by Neil Astley at Blood Axe:

Being Alive, Staying Alive and Being Human. All three were recommended and I am passing forward the recommendation. Enjoy!

 

 

 

Gatherings

Back room conversations, hot gossip in the kitchen.  Everyone wants to be there, hanging out of an open door, smoking and listening at the same time. Multi-tasking, but not like the cooks.

Hangovers from the Eve outings the night before. Grinding of teeth round the table. Ungraciousness about table manners. Always in a foul mood when sober. Best kept topped-up.

Other families’ stuff, other couple’s stuff. Glancing round the room, hearing the sub context. Knowing who’s revealed an affair, who knocked some one out in a drunken rage, who needs a women’s refuge.

The years pass, people depart, couples split up, some put and shut up. Kids grow  and leave. Slowly there’s a movement to just you or just you two. Your memories are all good, bad and ugly. You wonder if new ones will come and they do. They are the same. The same scenarios of drunkenness, volatile tempers, pathos, comedy, tragedy. Love, not love.

Life’s a play. But I’ve done with rehearsing for the same one. And with that comes more loss. Loneliness is being in a room full of people, or in a relationship where love is rarely expressed, a friendship that goes round in circles, one you have grown out of. Loneliness is being there the day after and soaking up the aftermath.

In life be brave about decisions, about gatherings, people, and mostly about yourself.

rumi